There was complete darkness, then gunfire erupted.
Emily barely had time to think before instinct took over.
She dove behind a rusted metal crate as bullets shredded through the air, the metallic scent of gunpowder thick in her lungs. The sound was deafening—sharp, chaotic, a storm of violence.
Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging through her veins, every muscle coiled tight.
She gripped the gun she had stolen from one of Blackwood’s men, its weight unfamiliar but necessary. Her fingers trembled—only slightly—but she steadied them. She had no time for hesitation.
A quick glance.
James and Liam were across the warehouse, pinned behind a stack of shipping containers. Both armed. Both moving with lethal precision.
And then, beyond them—watching, waiting, controlling everything—
Vince
